Saturday, March 11, 2017

SoL Challenge Day #11

Whittlespeak

I am twenty-five years old and still stumbling over the mudwasps working something furious in my throat, trying to form fists that are both heavy and lightenough to fit around their straight shooter smiles.

I haven’t quite gotten a handle on it all yet.

But I can weave whittlespeak timbreover sun-spilled porches,stitch leftover lines into novelties, and bend the sky beneath all of the whitespace I’ve ever written into existence.

My fists will never stop buzzing banjos,and my voice will never stop searchingfor any shape of consistency.